


Like A Colossus

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Beau wants to work things out with Yasha, but it requires a little give and take.





	Like A Colossus

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift commissioned by sailorscooby for 4guiltypleasure! Happy birthday!

Getting Yasha alone was the hard part.

No, it was the easy part, if Beau decided to be honest with herself. She’d always had a knack for attracting attention—whether or not she wanted to—and knew she could lure the barbarian away with some concerted effort. The hard part was getting to know anything about Yasha at all.

Beau had a feeling that if she laid the span of Yasha’s conscious moments from end to end, there would be far more silences than speeches, and the words there would lend to the practical than the illustrative. That was fine. Not everyone liked to talk, but there was always a way to learn a person—mind, soul, body. A smirk quirked Beau's lips at the little thread of philosophy. Ioun would be proud, maybe.

Yasha possessed a good dose of all three. Her penchant for quiet and simple phrasing didn't fool Beau, not after she'd seen the wings burst from the aasimar's back, exchanging shining words in Celestial with Caleb. Still waters ran deep there, brewing a storm just out of sight. That was _soul_ too, a glint of power and raw determination that couldn't be snuffed out, but Beau wanted the whole glowing view.

The barbarian's body wasn't in question. Her sheer presence rippled through the air of any room she walked into, a marble statue come to life. Beau didn't want to put Yasha on a pedestal, but it was hard not to, considering. She wasn't perfect—none of them were—but the other woman reminded Beau of those magnetic stones found deep in the earth, with a pull like the tide, bearing thousands of times their own weight.

So she picked her moment. It couldn't be at an inn, not when there was a possibility of beating down the walls; Beau didn't have the coin to pay for that kind of collateral damage. There was no place in city nor sewer, for any number of reasons, so it wasn't until they were back out in open air that an opportunity even presented itself.

At the fire, Fjord called for watch rounds, and Jester volunteered to stay with him first. Beau waited for Yasha to claim second, then leapt on the chance with a grin. The barbarian leveled her with discordant eyes, each iris reflecting the flame before her in a different hue, and had to be thinking of what happened last time they shared a watch. If she hadn't cast away shame like an old cloak, Beau would have been embarrassed, but this was a new stage, a new moment.

Jester noticed. Her laugh was half a dozen tinkling bells, light but charming. "Get some rest, you two. It's going to be a long night."

The fire was coaxed down to burning coals, and by the time Beau set up her bedroll, Nott and Caleb were already asleep, guarding each other's backs as always. She settled under a deep blue blanket, using the fabric like a veil to glance over Yasha's way. Under starlight, the fading contrast of her hair was cast in sharp relief; the black crown dark as obsidian, the white tips draping Yasha's back in silver. Her body rose and fell with an even rhythm, slow and steady as the earth below.

Beau closed her eyes. She'd planned to sleep, really. There wasn't any sense in exhausting herself ahead of time, but fatigue was edged out by anticipation, dancing under her skin like golden sparks. Tossing and turning didn't help, and throwing off the blanket completely exposed her to too much cool air to be comfortable. Running over some meditative chants passed the time, and Beau flickered in and out of consciousness until feeling Yasha stir.

It was _feel_ and not _see_ , because Yasha could make the world move when she woke up, little energetic tremors as the barbarian flexed and stretched. Beau lay flat a moment longer, indulging in that subtle rumble until Yasha was standing tall, shrugging her greatsword up onto one shoulder while exchanging a few words with Jester.

"Enjoy your sleep," Yasha said, mismatched eyes flickering over towards Beau's bedroll. "Are you awake, or do I have to wake you?"

Obviously, she was crushing hard, because the casual threat sent a rush of heat up the back of Beau's neck. She sat up—as casually as possible—and pulled her hair into its usual topknot before rolling her shoulders, hearing a satisfying pop. "I'm good."

"Have fun!" Jester grinned at them both before she flopped back onto her bedroll, spiritual weapon vanishing in a blur of sweet, spectral energy.

Beau wasn't going to ask how Jester had any idea what her plans were; maybe it was because the cleric grew up around pleasure houses, or maybe she was just that damn obvious to everyone but Yasha herself. With her arms slung over her staff like a scarecrow, Beau stepped away from the circle of glowing goals in the center of their camp and into the shadows, off by a copse of trees with a good angle toward the nearby road.

She leaned against one thick trunk, propping her staff up along one low-hanging branch. Yasha came into view a few minutes later, gaze sweeping through the dark for any threats. There were none, and the aasimar took her perch on the side of the tree to Beau's left.

"You're going to have to be my eyes, you know," Beau quipped, needing some way to start the conversation. "I can't see shit out here."

There was a huff in response, not quite a laugh. "I'm surprised you don't have some secret monk sense."

At least half a dozen innuendos floated through Beau's mind before she cut right to the point. "I want to fight you."

"Mm?" Yasha's murmur sounded more confused than anything else, as if she hadn't heard right. "You want to what?"

"Fight you. Go toe to toe." Well, more body to body, but Beau was trying to restrain herself—a little bit. "See who comes out on top."

The aasimar leaned forward, enough for Beau to see her face under the canopy of branches surrounding them in shadow. "If I accidentally cut your head off, everyone will be very upset with me."

Beau rolled her eyes. "Not with weapons. Grappling, wrestling, you know."

Yasha was so quiet for so long that Beau was convinced she'd somehow managed to fuck things up beyond recognition in a few fractured sentences. Then the barbarian gripped her greatsword with both hands, driving it a full six inches into the dirt so it stayed still and straight, like an artifact out of legend.

"This is going to have rules," Yasha declared. "None of your... _ki_ business."

Beau felt like a breath had just been punched out of her lungs, but smiled anyway. "Okay, that's fair. But that means no raging out on me. And, uh, no wings."

Not that she was against the wings. They were terrifying in a hot sort of way, but trying to tussle with an aasimar that already outclassed her in size was going to be enough of a trial without ending up thirty feet in the air.

Yasha grunted in acknowledgement. "Deal. How do we decide who wins?"

"Whoever taps out first." Beau imitated the gesture in the air. "Or passes out, I guess."

In the darkness, the aasimar's smile was a thrilling crescent of teeth. "I wouldn't make you pass out, Beau. We're supposed to be on watch."

Rolling her wrists to warm them up, Beau stepped away from the tree to open earth. "Do you think we're going to be in danger or something?"

"We?" Yasha tilted her head. "No."

It was in that split second that Beau realized the other woman was teasing her. A challenge hung in the air, one she had to answer; not for her pride, but for curiosity, to _know_. Maybe, just maybe whatever she learned would quash the attraction burning through her blood like good, dark wine.

Probably not, but either way, the answer would be satisfying.

They scuffed out a few boundaries in the ground, rough lines to mark a mat. Beau dropped into a defensive stance first, knowing she would have to rely on speed and flexibility to get anywhere in edgewise. What surprised her was Yasha also hunkering down, shoulders tight and hands up, guarding her chest and throat.

For a minute, the only sound on the air was the two of them breathing, circling one another. The distance between their bodies whittled down by inches with each pass, until Beau was a hairsbreadth shy of Yasha's reach. Then a pale hand darted out, grabbing for her wrist, and Beau slipped free before calloused fingers could clench tight. The movement was a catalyst, a spark, and suddenly they were jockeying for a proper hold on each other, grasping at fabric and flesh with equal intensity.

"You know, if you wanted to touch me, you just should have asked," Yasha said, trying to hook both arms under Beau's and lock her in a clinch.

It was only luck that the comment sent a jolt of embarrassment through Beau, and her knees dropped in a moment of weakness. She twisted out of the grab, recovering even as heat catapulted all the way to her face.

"I tried that already," Beau shot back, a little hasty as she attempted to sweep Yasha's leg. It was like trying to topple a building with just the side of her calf. "You were going to charge me five gold."

Somewhere in the blur of motion between elbows and knees, Beau caught a glimpse of Yasha grinning.

"Unless you charge for this too?" The monk asked, eyebrow raised as she ducked the heavy loop of Yasha's arm.

Yasha lunged. "No."

There was a shift in the earth; Ioun's fucking robes, it felt like gravity itself had taken a hit as Beau was tackled to the ground, six full feet of barbarian pinning her down. "Not for this."

The only saving grace was that Yasha took one singular second to gloat. Beau read the glint in her eyes, and took the chance to shove both her heels into the ground, using the leverage to flip their bodies over so Yasha rolled onto her back. She locked one of Yasha's legs with her own, holding it at an almost painful angle while attempting to keep control of the barbarian's arm, wanting to avoid a choke or headbutt.

"If there's no price, then—" Beau let out a whoop of surprise when Yasha threw her off, sending her tumbling through the dirt, smudging one of their boundaries. "Ow. Brute."

Yasha's laugh was a tempest's call, low and shaking thunder. "That doesn't sound like a complaint."

It wasn't, but Beau still flipped her middle finger in the barbarian's direction as she got back to her feet. "As I was saying, if there's no price, then how about a bet?"

"What sort of bet?" Yasha asked.

"Whoever wins this next round, gets to be in control when things get real." Beau said it with a smile, even if her heart was beating like a wardrum. If Yasha didn't want this, it could stop right now, but if she did...

The adrenaline blazing in Yasha's eyes settled, forged into something sharper: determination. "That's a two-edged sword of a promise."

"And why's that?" With her balance back, Beau started to move in on Yasha again. Fighting on the ground hadn't actually been too bad, much to her surprise; maybe a quick suplex and choke could offer an advantage.

"Because I think you like being under me," Yasha said, casual as a greeting, and then moved without a breath of hesitation.

Beau knew monks that could stun with a touch, but Yasha had knocked the wind out of her using words alone. They tumbled back to the ground, struggling with more force than artistry until Beau sacrificed one of the wraps around her wrists to get out of Yasha's armlock, sweat dripping hot between everywhere their bodies met. She searched for a pinch to a nerve, something to sap the strength bearing down on her, but for her, temptation had always been stronger than wisdom.

Why was she fighting back against the thing she wanted most?

Surrender would be cheap. Beau did struggle in earnest, and it was honest; no dirty tricks, no dirt in the eyes or two-knuckle throat punches, but her slow collapse against Yasha was like letting the ocean wash over her, an inexorable tide. Submerged in heat and power, Beau gasped and tapped Yasha's shoulder. It was more of a fumbling slap, but there was an elbow in her ribs and a bar like iron called the aasimar's forearm binding her throat, so that was the best she could manage.

Yasha relented with a faint, satisfied rumble. There was no punishment or mockery, just a look like pieces fitting together, smoothed into place. "I want you on your back, Beau."

Hearing Yasha's voice heavy with desire did an electric number up the length of Beau's spine, a caress that crackled and sparked. She laughed, joyous with disbelief. "You got it."

The aasimar's body never quite left hers as she shifted positions, and Yasha settled her weight low on top of Beau's thighs. Ashen fingers traced along the length of her sash, turning it over so the script embroidered on the back was visible.

"Is this holy to you?" Yasha asked, holding the silk in one palm like it was made of glass.

Beau shrugged. "It's really not. Just...helpful."

"Alright." Reaching under the dark symbol of the Stormlord at her waist, Yasha started to unlace her trousers. Beau was so busy staring at the movement she didn't realize the aasimar wanted her attention until a gruff clearing of Yasha's throat. "You do want this, yes? I don't care about the competition."

"Yeah," Beau answered, forcing herself to look up at Yasha's face so the intent on her own was made plain. "Yeah, I want it."

There was that smile again, sharp and beautiful. "Good."

With roughened hands, Yasha tugged her trousers down to her knees, until the fabric was trapped tight against them and Beau's stomach. Her thighs flexed, heavy with muscle, and even if Beau couldn't see through the shadows draped between them, she could suddenly scent slick heat on the air, a heady mix of arousal and sweat.

Yasha's entire body moved until she was straddling Beau's face, knees pressing down into the dirt on either side of her head. This close, the barbarian's weight and strength was inescapable, and Beau slipped her arms around each column of marble called Yasha's thighs so they were bound in decorations of bronze. It felt good to hold tight, to feel the give of flesh underneath her palms, and Beau turned to kiss up the inside of one leg.

She didn't know what Yasha liked, but gods take her, she was going to find out. Starting out with light, dappling kisses and the hot press of her tongue up and down striations of muscle, earned a relaxed sigh from up above, but Beau could feel the quiver in Yasha's hips as she worked her way higher. Anticipation built between those subtle twitches, and Beau let out a groan of delight when her mouth brushed against damp curls, finding a well of heat underneath.

Yasha was wet—maybe because of the fight, maybe because of her, or some combination of both—but the simple realization of it sent an excited jolt between Beau's own thighs. She parted Yasha's folds open with the flat of her tongue, claiming the taste there, and with slow sweeps started to explore everywhere else. It was strange to think of Yasha as soft or sensitive, but what gave under Beau's mouth was just that, smearing clear and slick down to her chin as she found the swell of Yasha's clit.

The legs on either side of her head tensed when she made contact there, and Beau smiled before flicking the very tip of her tongue against it. Yasha growled in the back of her throat, and Beau felt fingers grasping along the crown of her hair, gripping tight to encourage even more contact. She brought her lips around Yasha's clit and sucked, building the pressure until the other woman's hips jerked hard against her mouth.

Beau let her hands taper higher, finding the curve of Yasha's ass and giving it a hard squeeze as her tongue kept up its work, chasing the occasional gasp and grunt out of the barbarian's throat. Usually she liked her partners loud, but they were supposed to be on watch, and it was so _Yasha_ to be getting eaten out without barely raising her voice. She could feel the tension under her palms, along her mouth, rising to that inevitable conclusion.

She drew circles and sigils with her tongue, mindless and meaningless, enough to keep the other woman on that eager, needy edge until the grip on Beau's hair tightened to living iron. Drawing in a quick breath between sticky lips, Beau devoted all of her attention to Yasha's clit once more.

There was a tremble, a tremor, in the body above her, and Yasha's orgasm came in almost complete silence. Yet Beau felt it like a storm against her mouth, riding out the instinctive rhythm of Yasha's hips until it slowed, and the only sound on the air was ragged panting. She looked up, peering through the veil of night, and there was just enough starlight to make out Yasha's face flush with afterglow. The barbarian looked down, meeting her gaze, and the desire there hadn't even begun to fade—it had only switched focus.

Yasha moved down Beau's body with surprising grace, bringing them face-to-face, and Beau muffled a moan against Yasha's mouth as she was kissed. It was hard and wild and such a relief, having their lips meet after she'd fantasized about it a hundred times before. They were both breathless by the time Yasha pulled away, but with the hands searching out the knot of Beau's sash, it wasn't a dismissal, or an end to things.

"Does it bother you to be tied down?" Yasha asked, a faint rasp in her voice as she held up the length of silk.

Beau shook her head, putting both arms up and crossed at the wrist. "Didn't guess you were into that sort of thing, though."

"There's not that many ways to keep a monk still," Yasha muttered, but there was too much warmth filtered through the words to be a real complaint.

The silk was smooth and cool against Beau's arms as Yasha looped the sash around them a few times, drawing it back and around between her wrists to make a slipknot. She could get out of it with ease, but that wasn't the point, and they both knew it.

Yasha kissed Beau on the mouth again, but the next was in the center of her throat, right near the pulse. Broad hands wandered down her clothes, touching the gaps were skin was bare, and the first brush of Yasha's lips against the taut muscle of her stomach made Beau squirm and hiss between her teeth. Without her sash on, it only took a light tug for Yasha to get her pants and threadbare smallclothes out of the way, exposing the dark curls underneath.

A single finger traced down between them, and Beau gasped as Yasha spread her open to the cool night air. Pleasure rippled through her body in a slow pulse as the exploration swept from entrance to clit and back again; Yasha's touch was careful—almost _considerate_ —until Beau let out a moan louder than she meant to, bucking against the knuckle teasing around where she was most sensitive. Blue and violet irises flickered upwards, Yasha's mouth quirked in amusement.

"You're not going to be very quiet, are you?" The barbarian asked.

"Not if you get those fingers inside me," Beau said back, and parted her knees even wider in invitation.

Yasha chuckled, then clapped a heavy palm over Beau's mouth. "That's what I thought."

Underneath the press of calloused fingers, Beau's face flushed. She wasn't opposed to being gagged by any means, but the wicked shine in Yasha's eyes made it that much more intense when the hand between her thighs began to move again. One finger slipped inside her, slow and pressing to the knuckle, and Beau didn't bother to quiet the next sound that rose in her throat.

She rocked into the pace that Yasha set, too eager to hold back, and need burned hot in the pit of her stomach when a second finger joined the first. It was impossible to focus on anything but the pressure around her wrists, against her mouth, and Yasha's fingers filling her up. Bliss was a hundred tight threads weaving through Beau's body, electric and bright, sparking every time Yasha's palm pressed against her clit.

Slick friction bred more heat, more wetness, until Beau clenched tight and came, muffling a short cry against the hand guarding her silence. The world was spinning in the best of ways, blurred at the edges until she came back down to earth, lassitude settling into every limb under the night sky. Nothing was cold anymore, and even the ground against her back felt like a three-tier bed.

When Yasha's fingers withdrew, just as leisurely, Beau groaned and shivered. The barbarian pulled away enough to free her mouth, that same hand making quick work of the sash still eclipsing her wrists. Despite that, it took another minute for Beau to sit up, fumbling the tangle of her pants back up over her hips. Yasha did the same, but left them unlaced.

They sat together in the dark a while longer, gazes directed up towards the moon, until Beau found it in her to confront the inevitable. "So, did this mean anything? Or is it a 'we don't talk about this again' kind of situation?"

"That depends." Yasha slung her arms over her propped up knees, looking more relaxed than Beau had ever seen her. "It can mean something. But no rush on a definition."

Beau nodded, surprised that answer diffused the tension from between her shoulder blades. She liked that it was malleable, and knew that any good definition took trial and error to work out anyway. "Sounds good."

After another stretch of silence, she shifted, just enough to lean her head against Yasha's shoulder. The aasimar let out a faint hum of assent, continuing to stare up at the moon, but then put an arm around Beau's waist. A tight squeeze followed, and Beau hid a grin against dark blue fabric and tangled braids.

She had learned plenty, that's for sure.

\--


End file.
